


Mamihlapinatapei

by hushlittlewolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pining, The poor Sheriff just being so done with everything, Unrequited Love, except not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2021982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hushlittlewolf/pseuds/hushlittlewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mamihlapinatapei: the look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.</p><p> </p><p>Stiles and Scott are 14 when the Sheriff first notices. Which means it’s probably been obvious for a while because while the Sheriff might be a good officer, Mr. Stilinski lacked the finer points of reading his hyperactive son. </p><p>God. He misses Claudia more and more every day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mamihlapinatapei

**Author's Note:**

> did this for a tumblr prompt :P

Stiles and Scott are 14 when the Sheriff first notices. Which means it’s probably been obvious for  _ **a while**  _because while the  _Sheriff_  might be a good officer, Mr. Stilinski lacked the finer points of reading his hyperactive son. God. He misses Claudia more and more every day. 

He sees it in Scott first. It’s Stiles’ birthday, 7:00 am on a Thursday, and the three of them are standing in Claudia’s kitchen (Sheriff could never think of it as anything else) crowded around a stack of pancakes 10 high, with an obscene amount of whip cream and a giant candle on top. (Scott had ridden his bike over at 6:30 in the morning because they’re doing ‘cake’ and presents before school since the Sheriff has a night shift; Stiles was going to spend the afternoon and evening at the McCall house, stuffing himself on Scott’s mom’s cooking. God. He thanks whatever lucky stars put Melissa in his life.)

The Sheriff and Scott sing an off-key but earnest rendition of  _Happy Birthday_ and Stiles fidgets in place, one part embarrassment, one part happiness, and two parts anticipation to just stick his face in the sugar monstrosity once the song ends and the candle is removed. 

Scott rounds out the last few chords, and the Sheriff smiles at Stiles as he says, “Make a wish, son.” 

Stiles clenches his eyes shut and makes some ridiculous face, concentrating so hard his tongue sticks out the side of his mouth. The Sheriff rolls his eyes fondly and glances over at Scott, expecting to find a similar expression of exasperation on the boy’s face. 

He doesn’t. 

Instead, he finds Scott smiling softly. His eyes are bright and the rising sun, as well as the flickering candle on the table, give his tan skin a kind of glow. But there’s something in the set of his (sadly uneven) jaw; there’s something in the back of his eyes. It looks almost sad, almost painful. It’s such an odd expression to see in Scott’s young face that the Sheriff doesn’t even turn in time to see Stiles blow out his candle or shove his face (as the Sheriff predicted) straight into the mountain of whip cream. 

Scott laughs, suddenly, and the expression is gone. He claps Stiles on the back and hands him a towel for his face. The two start laughing, and the Sheriff writes everything off as a certain slant of light, the morning shadows playing tricks on him. 

That is, until, he leaves the boys alone for a moment to put on his uniform for work. When he returns, he walks into the kitchen to find the boys standing at the refrigerator as Stiles chugs milk straight from the jug. The Sheriff opens his mouth to berate his son, but Scott beats him to it.  

"Hey Stiles?" His voice is soft and hesitant, and the Sheriff feels something like recognition spark in his mind. 

"What’s up?" Stiles smacks his lips. His boy is so crass, but Scott doesn’t look affected as Stiles burps right in his face. The Sheriff tries hard not to sigh, tries hard not to breathe. 

Scott wrings his hand and chews his lips, which isn’t like him. He’s not a nervous boy; asthmatic sure, but he had a quiet sort of confidence about him. He takes a deep breath, rubs the back of his neck, and suddenly that look is back in his eyes. 

"I was just wondering…I mean I’ve been thinking…there’s just…there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you." 

He shifts from foot to foot and looks so small and awkward that the Sheriff is suddenly thrown back almost twenty years, except he’s the one looking like Scott and Claudia is the one standing in front of him, albeit without a milk mustache. (He had asked her out for the first time 3 years after they had met; when he finally stuttered out the question, Claudia had only rolled her eyes and said, “ _Finally.”_ ) _  
_

Oh god. The Sheriff feels so overwhelmed and flabbergasted in this moment his jaw actually falls open. He mentally flounders wondering when _this_ had developed, and he’s suddenly panicking, at a loss of how he was going to give Stiles the birds and the bees talk now. (The Sheriff doesn’t give two shits who his son did the birds and the bees with, once he was old enough, and the other person was reasonably nice and clean. And didn’t have a record. Or major debt. Okay, the Sheriff does have some criteria for Stiles’ future parter but gender isn’t one of them.) Still…he’s out of his depth here, and he’s already planning his call to Melissa when Scott…chickens out. 

"What did you wish for earlier?" he asks around a smile. It’s such a sad shadow of his usual 1000 watt grins that the Sheriff feels his heart ache for the boy. 

Stiles hums, and even with his back to him, the Sheriff can imagine the ridiculous face of contemplation he’s making. “Well I’d say I can’t tell you or it won’t come true, but since we’re basically the same person, I’ll let you in on my deepest darkest desire, Scotty: Lydia Martin.”

As the light in Scott’s eyes goes fractured, the Sheriff has the sudden urge to head slap his son. Hard. 

"Think today is the day?" Scott asks. He’s pulling on his backpack, still smiling, still sad in the eyes. 

Stiles nods his head vigorously. “Yes. It’s my birthday. She has to at least say hi to me on my birthday, right?”

Scott laughs softly but says, “She does. I’m sure she’ll will.” He pushes off the counter and calls over his shoulder, “I’m going to go wait in the Jeep. Hurry up or Harris will be giving you detention for your birthday.  _Again.”_

"Ugh. Stop bringing up the past, Scotty. It’s bringing me down."

Scott shakes his head but doesn’t respond. Instead, he looks up and spots the Sheriff and the older man can actually  _see_ how Scott fixes his smile, corners of his mouth yanking up like they’re on strings, rigid and forced. 

"See ya later, Sheriff." 

"Bye Scott. Uh…t…tell your mom thanks again for me, will ya?"

That unruly mop of brown curls bobs in acknowledgement as he walks out the front door. The Sheriff rubs at the back of his head, and is turning to say something to Stiles when he sees his son making the same gesture, long, pale fingers (Claudia’s fingers) running along his shorn head. 

The Sheriff looks into his son’s face and almost laughs at Scott’s expression on it, the expression of love and longing and every hopeless fool who thought themselves swinging for the fences, throwing a hail mary, or praying a prayer that was expected to go on answered. 

“ _Aw hell,_ " he thinks. 

He needs to go find some books, or maybe there’s a website, a support group or something. An instruction manual maybe? The Sheriff snorts in derision at his own thoughts. 

“ _Yeah ‘My son and his best friend are in love but are idiots and can’t admit it: A friendly guide for fathers.’ That’s sure to be a best seller.”_

Scrubbing a hand over his face, the Sheriff decides to deal with this later. “Come on birthday boy,” he calls to Stiles. “Let’s move it.”

Stiles physically shakes himself and plasters on a smile too. “On it Dad. See you later! Thanks for the present and pancakes.” 

He hugs the Sheriff on the way out, and the Jeep rumbles out of the driveway a few moments later. 

Taking a deep breath, the sheriff reaches for another cup of coffee and mourns the fact that his son is a hormonal teenager. A hormonal teenager apparently in love.  _With Scott._

When he leaves, he glances at the picture of Claudia picture in the living room, and he swears he hears her laughing at him. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos appreciated :)
> 
> come say hi on tumblr: http://the-wild-wolves-around-you.tumblr.com/


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